Seeing his comrades proceed, Young resolved to do the same. Yet his body ached all over, pain gnawing at him from every wound. Blood loss had weakened him, making the descent from the plateau feel like wishful thinking. He groaned inwardly, cursing himself for ever climbing to its heights.
Still, greed hardened his resolve — the promise of precious life energy in the camps below was too tempting to abandon. He stretched his hands forward, grateful for the gloves he almost never removed. They clung tightly to his palms, and he was relieved he had not left them behind, for without them he doubted he could have made the journey back down alive.
As Young brought his hands forward, the grey gloves he wore began to shimmer, brimming with a lemon‑green glow of enchanted energy. He pressed them against his wounded flesh, channeling their power to hasten the healing process.
For a moment, warmth surged through him, knitting torn muscles and soothing aching bones. Yet he could not sustain the enchantment for long. A torrent of blood burst from his nose, draining his strength further, until he was forced to stop. His body was only partially healed, but it was enough.
Driven by greed and desperation, he steadied himself and began the arduous descent from the plateau, determined to reach the soul‑beings' camp and seize the precious life energy he desired.
Young gasped softly as he reached the bottom of the plateau, his body trembling from the strain. He cursed again, regretting ever climbing to its heights, and rested briefly before forcing himself onward. Following the same path the two women had taken, he trudged toward the camp, driven by greed and desperation.
Just as he neared his destination, a figure appeared behind him. Startled, Young braced himself, raising his arms in a makeshift stance, ready to fight. As the figure drew closer, its features became clear — it was not an enemy but Nect. Relief mixed uneasily with discomfort. Seeing Nect unsettled him, almost alarming, and he wondered inwardly why his comrade was here, hoping silently that no new trouble had followed him down.
***
Not all of the exiles followed Willow's lead, nor were they gathered near her vicinity. As a result, the times they began fighting the soul‑beings camped in the plateau region differed greatly from when Willow first engaged the skeleton knight clad in Momon's battle suit.
Some, like Sasha and Young, only began battling their adversaries much later, their struggles unfolding after Willow's initial clash. Others, however, had already taken up arms before Willow's fight even began.
One such example was Nect, a dark elf among the exiles, whose confrontation with the soul‑beings started earlier, marking him as one of the first to test his strength against the camp's defenders.
A wave of relief washed over Nect the moment he spotted Young. Though Young was hardly a reliable partner in battle and would likely falter in a truly dire fight, Nect was still glad to see him. For all his flaws, Young was the only exile Nect considered a friend, the single bond he trusted in the hostile cohort.
Yet as Nect ran toward him, his joy was met with unease. Young's expression was strange, twisted as though he had just bitten into a rotten apple. His face carried a mixture of worry and sadness, as if Nect's arrival had caused him to miss something precious, leaving the reunion tinged with discomfort.
Immediately upon reaching his friend, Nect began speaking quickly, his voice brimming with urgency about teaming up and offering his services.
He proclaimed:
"… I could also be a great scout, keeping watch for trouble while you work your magic. I don't understand why we had to change our tactics when pillaging this camp for resources. If all eight of us had banded together, we would have conquered this place with ease. All this hiding and splitting up feels like nothing but wasted time, precious time we cannot afford to lose…"
Nect's words carried both conviction and frustration, his desire for unity clashing against the fractured strategies of the exiles.
Nect watched as his friend's expression seemed to lighten, and he kept sweetening his words, hoping they would be enough to convince Young to team up with him. Just as he felt Young was about to accept, his friend cut him off abruptly.
The suddenness of it sent a chill down Nect's spine. Young's voice was sharp, carrying both suspicion and unease as he said:
"I wonder why you are here, Nect. I hope you didn't run into any trouble in your journeys to find me?"
Nect felt stunned for a moment, almost alarmed that Young would ask him such a question. A rush of thoughts surfaced in his mind: "How did he know?" "Are they behind me?" "No, they couldn't possibly be. I lost them on my way here." "The old man is probably paranoid — there's no way they followed me."
Certain that Young was testing him with a trick question, Nect steadied himself. He decided to lie to his friend about running into any troubles on his way, forcing his voice to sound calm as he spoke while trying to look as confident as possible:
"Like I said earlier, I was just fortunate to run into you. I didn't see any troubles — I set out on my path and was eventually led here. Stop acting paranoid. If that's out of the way, what do you say you and your best pal team up to face these soul‑beings?"
Nect stopped speaking for a while, carefully watching Young's countenance to see if his lie had taken root. He hoped his confident tone had been enough to mask the truth. Young's expression was difficult to read; his face had lightened, suggesting he believed Nect's words, yet there was still a forlorn shadow in his gaze.
As he stared toward the camp's entrance, he looked as though he was missing out on something precious, or perhaps had already given up something he valued deeply.
Nect had no idea why Young's expression looked so forlorn, but his own face brightened a moment later when his friend finally allowed him to join. Young accepted his sweetened words and services, and Nect heaved a sigh of relief, genuinely surprised that things had gone better than expected.
With Young leading the way and Nect following close behind, they stepped into the entrance of the camp. As if on cue, two soul‑beings materialized before their eyes, shadows twisting into hostile forms. Nect could feel Young's gaze upon him, almost as though his friend was glad he had chosen to partner with him.
Pride swelled in Nect's chest, and he nearly laughed at the irony — his mischievousness had paid off, and now fate had placed them side by side against the enemy.
Nect quickly studied the soul‑beings advancing toward them, his sharp eyes scanning for weakness. He examined their bone texture, the density of their frames, and the weapons they carried, weighing his options carefully.
Though he could not determine which of the two belonged to a higher or lower class, his skillful observation revealed that one possessed a weakened bone structure and wielded a weapon resembling a bone stiletto. Recognizing this foe as the weaker of the pair, Nect made his choice.
He would battle the stiletto‑wielder, leaving the sturdier, more dangerous soul‑being to Young. A flicker of pride stirred within him, certain his decision would prove both cunning and practical.